


Love? I've Heard It's All the Rage

by mikkimouse



Series: Happy Birthday Mr. Hale [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Laura Hale/Erica Reyes, Minor Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski, Sick Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/pseuds/mikkimouse
Summary: "He doesn't want—" Derek began. 
"Oh, so you're psychic now?" Erica cut him off. "You know exactly what he wants, never mind that neither of you have brought it up since you started fucking in August? Does that mean you can give me the winning lottery numbers? Ooo, or can you tell me if Laura got me that sexy pink lacy thing for my birthday next month? I'm really hoping she did." 
Derek glared at her. Erica met his glare with an arched eyebrow of her own.
The hell of it was, she was right, and he knew it. This was a conversation that needed to happen sooner rather than later, and putting it off for over a month was not going to make having it any easier. 
"Next weekend," he finally said. "He'll be here. We'll have it in person." 
(Derek needs to talk to Stiles. Stiles needs to talk to Derek. Shockingly, smut does not ensue.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [bleep0bleep](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/) and [infectiouspunk](http://infectiouspunk.tumblr.com/) for the beta read!
> 
> As with (almost) every work in this series, the title comes from Abney Park's song "Love."
> 
> If I've missed any tags, please let me know.

They needed to talk. 

Derek knew it in the very core of his being, but he just couldn't bring himself to broach the subject. Not when Stiles brought Mia home from the mall after taking her to see Santa, both of them smiling and red-cheeked from the cold. Not when he showed up two days before Christmas with presents for both of them, and it took all of Derek's willpower not to beg him to stay for the holiday. And not at New Year's, when they spent the night so thoroughly fucking each other that Derek could barely remember his own name the next morning. 

He pushed it down as long as he could, ruthlessly ignored it, but the fact of the matter was that his feelings weren't going anywhere. If anything, they were only getting stronger, to the point that Laura, Erica, _and_ Boyd had all had the concerned conversation with him. 

Well, Laura's conversation had been concerned. Boyd had just asked if he'd been sleeping okay. Erica was the only one who'd bluntly laid it out for him. 

"You're the one always harping about the importance of communication," she'd pointed out when he'd dropped Mia off for her girl's night in with her aunts. "So _communicate_ with him." 

"He doesn't want—" Derek began. 

"Oh, so you're psychic now?" Erica cut him off. "You know exactly what he wants, never mind that neither of you have brought it up since you started fucking in _August?_ Does that mean you can give me the winning lottery numbers? Ooo, or can you tell me if Laura got me that sexy pink lacy thing for my birthday next month? I'm really hoping she did." 

Derek glared at her. Erica met his glare with an arched eyebrow of her own.

The hell of it was, she was right, and he knew it. This was a conversation that needed to happen sooner rather than later, and putting it off for over a month was not going to make _having_ it any easier. 

"Next weekend," he finally said. "He'll be here. We'll have it in person." 

Erica patted his cheek. "Good. Now go enjoy your quiet night while Laura and I introduce Mia to the wonders of sparkly nail polish."

***

Derek had every intention of talking to Stiles that weekend. He really, really did. It took a lot of internal discussions and a few conversation scripts scrawled on a legal pad, but he'd finally worked up enough courage that he could do it. He could tell Stiles he had feelings for him, and when Stiles inevitably laughed awkwardly and turned him down, Derek would get over it. It would hurt, but at least it would be _done_ , and he wouldn't be living in this limbo anymore. 

He had even bought a particularly expensive bottle of rum to soothe his broken heart. He was _prepared_. 

That was the plan.

And then Derek woke up Friday morning feeling...off. 

He ignored it while he was getting ready. He ignored it while he was feeding Mia breakfast and packing her off to school. He ignored it for the first half of the work day. 

It was considerably _harder_ to ignore it when his boss poked her head in his office, took one look at him, and said, "Holy shit, Derek, you look like someone hit you with a truck." 

He shook his head. The world tilted when he did. "I'm fine." 

"Yeah, that's bullshit. Go home." 

"I'm—"

She pointed at the door. " _Home_."

Derek went home. He didn't feel well enough to argue more, anyway. 

Thank God it was Jillian Carmichael's turn to drive the after-school carpool. Laura and Erica had left that morning for a weekend in Vegas, and his parents wouldn't be back from San Diego until Sunday, so there wasn't anyone else to pick up Mia. 

He made his way home and collapsed on the couch, dragging the throw blanket off the back of it and wrapping himself up. No matter how much he tried to deny it, he felt _awful_. He almost definitely had a fever, and from the way his stomach was complaining at him, he would probably be spending at least part of this evening in the bathroom. 

Derek remained on the couch until his clothes were too uncomfortable to stand it any longer, and then he staggered into his room to change. He also picked up his phone to call Stiles. He didn't think he could focus enough for a text conversation. 

Stiles didn't answer, which was probably for the best. What time was it? He probably had class. 

Derek rubbed his fevered head, tried to collect his thoughts enough to leave a coherent message. "Hey, Stiles. It's Derek. I'm going to need a rain check on this weekend. I'm not feeling very well. I, um..." 

His head swam, and he had to grab onto his dresser to keep from falling over. 

"I'll talk to you later." 

He hung up and stumbled into bathroom.

***

Stiles was just getting ready to turn on the next episode of Leverage when his phone rang. He frowned—it was 11:30 at night, who the hell was calling him?—before his brain clicked on and he realized _it was 11:30. Who the hell was calling him?_

He scrambled to answer, knocking two books off his desk in the process, silently praying _Don't be about Dad, please don't be about Dad—_

Derek's cell was on the caller ID. 

Stiles frowned again. Derek wouldn't be calling him about his dad. In fact, Derek had sounded about three seconds away from passing out on the voicemail he'd left earlier. Stiles had sent him a quick "get well soon" text, and wondered if it would be edging too much out of their agreement if he brought over a batch of his mom's chicken soup tomorrow afternoon. 

He swiped his thumb over the phone and answered. "Hey, Derek. How're you feeling?" 

"Stiles?" 

He started. That was not Derek's voice. That was young, scared, and definitely female. "Mia?" 

A sniffle on the other end. "Uh-huh." 

"Mia, sweetie, what are you doing with your dad's phone?" 

"He's sick." 

Stiles let out a long breath and willed his heart to stop beating like a snare drum. "I know. He called me and told me earlier." 

"No." Mia sounded like she was about to start crying. "He's _bad_ sick. He's been in the bathroom since I got home from school and so I was gonna take care of him like I take care of my dollies but he didn't eat the sandwich I made for dinner and he's still in the bathroom but he's not talking to me anymore and I can't open the door!" 

Oh shit. Oh _shit_. Stiles took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. Derek was probably fine. Maybe asleep against the bathroom door, but fine. He had to keep telling himself that. "Okay, Mia, can you call your Aunt Laura and ask her to come over?" 

"No!" Now Mia was sobbing. "Aunt Erica and Aunt Laura left for their trip this morning and Gammy and Grandpa won't be back from their trip until Sunday!" 

"Okay, okay, Mia?" Stiles's mind was going at a mile a minute. "I'm going to call my stepmom, okay? Her name is Melissa. She's a nurse. She'll come over right now and check on your dad, okay? And I'm going to come over, too." 

"When will you be here?" Mia asked through sniffles.

"It's going to be at least two hours," he said. "But I'll drive as fast as I can. And Melissa should be there in just a few minutes, okay?"

"'Kay," Mia whispered. "Hurry, Stiles." 

"I'll drive as fast as I can," Stiles promised again. "I have to hang up now to call Melissa, but I can call you back once I'm done. Would you like that?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"Okay. It'll just be a couple of minutes." Stiles was on his feet, blindly throwing clothes into a bag. "I'll call you right back," he said one more time before he hung up and dialed Melissa's cell. 

"God, Stiles, please tell me you're not in jail," she said when she answered. 

Stiles squawked indignantly, but now was not the time to defend his honor. "Can you do me a favor? Can you drive over to Derek Hale's house and check on him? I've got his address, if you need it." 

"Derek—what's going on?" Melissa sounded more awake now. "What's wrong?" 

"He's sick," Stiles said, and hoped his rising panic wasn't too obvious in his voice. "He wasn't feeling well earlier today, and I just got a call from his daughter. She says he's in the bathroom and he's not responding to her." 

"And she called _you?_ " Melissa said.

"None of her other family's in town right now," Stiles said. "Please, can you just go over there and make sure he's not, like, choking on his own vomit in the bathroom or something? I'll be there as soon as I can, but I don't want Mia to be alone." 

He heard shuffling on the other end, and then Melissa said, "Okay, your dad and I will head over there. Derek's on Pine still, right?" 

"Yeah, third house on the left," Stiles said. " _Thank_ you, Melissa. I owe you the biggest bouquet of roses I can find." 

"You don't, but yellow roses are my favorite," she said.

***

Stiles was in the Jeep two minutes after he hung up with Melissa, and then he called Mia back and talked to her about school until he heard the doorbell ring over the phone and he was assured his dad and Melissa were there. Stiles told Mia he'd be there soon, and then he tossed his phone into his passenger seat and pushed his Jeep as fast as it would go. 

He would absolutely, positively _never_ tell his dad how fast that was, but even so, Stiles still felt like he was crawling. He wanted to be there _now_ , wanted to see Derek _now_ , wanted to make sure Mia was okay _now_. His skin itched with the need, and he had to remind himself not to go _too_ fast, because wrapping the Jeep around a telephone pole would be a terrible idea. 

Even though he shaved nearly 15 minutes off the normally two-hour drive, it was pushing 2 in the morning when Stiles pulled up in front of Derek's house. The outside lights were off, but he could see the dim lights of the living room through the windows. He tumbled out of the Jeep, keys in hand, and bolted for the front door. 

It was locked, of course, but someone must have heard him come up, because as soon as Stiles raised his hand to knock, his dad opened the door. 

"How is he?" Stiles asked. He probably still sounded a little panicked. He didn't really care.

Dad stepped aside and let him in. "He's asleep, in his bed this time. It looks like he just passed out in the bathroom. It took both Melissa and I to get the door open." 

Footsteps thudded on the floor, and a moment later, Mia faceplanted into Stiles's thigh and wrapped her skinny arms tight around him. "Stiles!" 

Stiles held out his arms, and Mia let go of him long enough to let him pick her up. She wrapped around him like a spider monkey and rested her head on his shoulder. 

He rubbed her back. "Hey, kiddo. What are you still doing awake?" 

"Can't sleep," Mia said. 

"She wanted to stay up until you got here," Dad said, with a tone and a look that told Stiles a very uncomfortable conversation was in his near future. "So we watched _Finding Nemo_ while Melissa took care of Derek." 

"You aren't just buying me roses, by the way." Melissa poked her head out of the kitchen. "You're taking me out to dinner. I haven't seen a bathroom like that since you and Scott had a race to see who could eat more Halloween candy first." 

Stiles winced. That was not a pretty memory. "I am...very sorry, and you're a goddess amongst women, and _thank you_ ," he said, with as much feeling as he could muster. 

She walked over to them, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Despite the state of the bathroom, it doesn't look like he needs to go to the hospital. He has a fever, but it's holding pretty steady. Let him sleep, and make sure he drinks some water whenever he wakes up. If you can, see if you can get him to eat something and take an ibuprofen to help get his fever down. I sent your dad out earlier to get some ginger ale and crackers, so those are in the kitchen."

Stiles could have cried and kissed her. Not necessarily in that order. "Thank you so much, Melissa. You're the actual best." 

She smiled and ruffled his hair, just like she had when he was younger, even though she had to reach up and do it. "It's a good thing you're doing, driving all the way back here to watch Mia while her dad's sick." 

"Yes," Dad said suspiciously. "Very interesting that she would call you first."

Stiles recognized that tone. Stiles was _intimately familiar_ with that tone. That was the tone he'd heard every time he'd gotten back home after sneaking out, every time he'd ever lied to his dad in high school. 

And now that his adrenaline was subsiding with the knowledge that Derek was okay, he was suddenly _painfully_ aware of how this might look to his dad. It might possibly look like he had dropped everything and driven two hours in the middle of the night to take care of a man who was eleven years older than he was, for whom Stiles had been babysitting for three years.

Well, shit. 

"Stiles is my favorite," Mia mumbled sleepily into his shoulder. 

He hugged Mia tighter and gave his dad a significant look. "See? That's why she called me. I'm her favorite babysitter." 

Dad did not look convinced. In fact, he looked the opposite of convinced.

Melissa, God bless her, rolled her eyes and grabbed Dad's arm. "Come on, Sheriff. I've had a long night and I'd love an escort home." She turned to Stiles. "Think you can handle things here?" 

"Mia and I can hold down the fort. Right, kiddo?" Stiles said. 

The only answer from Mia was deep, steady breathing. 

Dad sighed. "Fine, we'll talk to you in the morning. Call us if he gets worse." 

Stiles saluted. "I will call you right after I call the paramedics." 

"Good man," Melissa said. 

Stiles waved them off and locked the door behind them, watching the lights of Melissa's car as they pulled out of the driveway. Then he headed back into the living room and laid Mia on the couch. He'd put her to bed properly in a minute, but right now he wanted to check on Derek. 

He made his way back to the bedroom. It felt a little weird to be coming back here alone, without Derek leading the way, but Stiles shook it off. 

The bathroom door was open, the light on and the fan going, and Stiles could smell the Lysol even from the bedroom door. Yeah, he was definitely buying Melissa lunch. And dinner. For a week. It would probably be ramen by the end of it, but it was the thought that counted, right? 

Derek was tucked into bed, a glass of water with a straw on the bedside table next to his phone. Stiles grabbed the phone and plugged it in on top of Derek's dresser; he used it as an alarm and had said before that if he didn't keep it halfway across the room, he'd never get up in the morning. Stiles could relate. 

He walked back to the bed. Derek was asleep, sure, but he looked...not good. His skin was flushed, his hair stuck to his forehead and temples, and his breathing was quick and shallow, like he was asleep, but not deeply. Stiles went to the bathroom and wet a washcloth, then returned to wipe it across Derek's forehead.

Derek made a noise, and then his eyes opened in slits. "Stiles?"

"Yeah," Stiles whispered. "You gave us a good scare there." He set the washcloth aside and picked up the water. "Here, drink a little bit." 

Derek frowned. "Noooo..."

Stiles held the straw up to his lips. "Just a sip, okay? You're dehydrated." 

After another second, Derek obediently opened his mouth and sucked on the straw. Stiles watched to make sure he actually drank some, and then set it back on the table when Derek turned his head away. 

"Get some rest," Stiles said. "I'm going to put Mia in her bedroom and then I'll come check on you again, okay?" 

"Mm," Derek said, but his eyes were already closed.

Mia didn't stir when Stiles picked her up and tucked her back into her own bed. He made sure the night light was on and that her stuffed wolf, Princess Geraldine, was on the bed before he closed the door and went back to Derek's room. 

Derek was also out, breathing more deeply than he had been before, so Stiles ¬felt somewhat reassured that he was really sleeping now. He went to the kitchen, got himself a glass of water, and then went into the quiet living room to sit on the couch and freak out. 

He'd been able to ignore it before now—the priority had been taking care of Derek and Mia—but without that distraction, Stiles was acutely aware of how entirely _screwed_ he was.

Because this? This wasn't what you did for fuckbuddies. This was what you did for someone you actually cared about. Stiles couldn't think of another human being—aside from his dad, Melissa, and Scott—that he would drive two hours in the middle of the night to take care of. 

And yet he did it for Derek. In a heartbeat, without even a second thought. And it hadn't been until his dad pointed that out that Stiles realized what it meant. 

It was just supposed to be sex, and he'd gone and fallen in love. 

He dropped his head against the back of the couch and sighed. "Shit."

***

Derek felt like hell the next time he opened his eyes. Not as bad as he'd felt the day before—his fever had gone away, at least—but it was still as though someone had chewed him up and spit him out. His back and sides ached, probably from the amount of time he'd spent over the toilet, and his throat felt raw. 

The night before seemed blurry after he'd left Stiles the voicemail. He had a vague memory of someone getting him out of the bathroom, of Stiles giving him a drink of water, of Mia crying—

_Mia._  
  
Derek sat up quickly and his head pounded at the movement. He winced and pressed the heel of his hand to his temple. Jeez, this was almost as bad as a hangover. 

A plate of crackers and a glass of ginger ale sat on his bedside table, with a note tucked under the plate. They couldn't have been there very long; the ginger ale was still bubbling. 

He took a sip of the ginger ale and picked up a cracker to nibble on, which was about all his sensitive stomach could handle right now, and then read the note. 

_Derek -_

_Eat a few crackers and drink some water, and take the medicine on the plate if you can. Mia and I are making breakfast in the kitchen._

_\- Stiles_  
  
Stiles. Derek thought he'd hallucinated that. Surely Stiles wouldn't have driven all the way back to Beacon Hills just to take care of him, but the note seemed to say otherwise.

Derek's heart danced a little jig, and his stomach very much did not approve. 

He made himself eat another cracker and drank a bit more of the ginger ale before he felt steady enough to stand. It probably wasn't entirely wise to be moving right now, but he had to check on Mia. 

And he had to see if Stiles was here with his own two eyes.

He shuffled out of his bedroom and down the hall toward the kitchen, wincing at the lights. The smell of bacon wafted from the kitchen, and while he didn't particularly feel up to eating bacon right now, the smell didn't make him sick. 

Mia sat at the kitchen table, coloring on a piece of construction paper, with a pile of pancakes on a plate in the center of the table. Stiles stood at the stove, flipping bacon in the skillet. He pulled off a couple of pieces and set them aside on a plate. 

God, Derek wanted this so much he ached with it. 

Mia looked up from her coloring and her whole face lit up. "Daddy! Daddy, you're okay!" 

She practically flew across the room and slammed into his legs, and it was only by bracing himself on the wall that Derek kept from being knocked over. "Hey, pumpkin." He smoothed a hand over her hair. "How are you doing?" 

"I'm good! Miss Melissa and Mister John came over to make sure you were okay and then Stiles drove _all the way back here_ to see me!" Mia grinned. "And he stayed all night and he said if I was quiet and didn't wake you up he would make blueberry pancakes!" Her face fell. "I didn't wake you up, did I? I was trying really hard to be quiet." 

"You didn't wake me up," Derek assured her, tugging on her hair a bit. "I woke up myself."

"Good, because I am totally capable of eating all those pancakes by myself," Stiles said threateningly. 

"No!" Mia shouted, at a pitch that _really_ wasn't good for Derek's head right now. "No, I want some." 

"Indoor voice, Mia," Stiles said, and then grimaced. "Sorry, I know that's usually your wheelhouse—" 

Derek waved it away. "You're her sitter, so you've had to discipline her before. And right now I'd really prefer not to have to...anything." 

"I'm surprised you're up at all." Stiles pulled the rest of the bacon out of the skillet. "You know, you don't have to be in here if you'd rather get some more sleep. I'll hang out and keep Mia from burning the house down." 

Mia made a face at Stiles, and he made one right back at her. 

The sight did things to Derek's heart. God, they needed to talk, but he couldn't have this conversation right _now_. Not with Mia here. "I saw the note and I wanted to check on you two," Derek said. 

That sounded a little less obvious than _I wanted to see if you were really here or if I'd hallucinated it because I wanted you to be._

Stiles gave him a quick grin and dished up pancakes and bacon for Mia. "I'm guessing you don't want one of these?" 

Derek shook his head. "I think the crackers and ginger ale will be more my speed for today." 

Stiles sat down and pulled two pancakes over to him. "Well, when you're feeling better, I'll make you another batch of Claudia Stilinski's World-Famous Blueberry Pancakes." 

_When you're feeling better_. Like he wanted to do this again, like there was going to _be_ a next time for Stiles making pancakes in his kitchen for his daughter. 

Derek really didn't have the emotional capacity to deal with this right now. He was seconds away from either bursting into tears or asking Stiles to marry him, and neither of those were good reactions. He cleared his throat. "That sounds nice. I'm, uh, going to go lay down for a little while longer."

"Good idea. You need your rest." Stiles nodded at Mia. "I was thinking of taking her to the park for a few hours. Is that okay with you?" 

Mia whipped her head around to Derek, her dark eyes wide and pleading. "Please, Daddy? Please please please please—"

Derek pressed his fingers to his temples. "It's fine." He looked to Stiles. "Just let me know how long you have her, and I'll pay you next week." 

"No!" Stiles said quickly, and then cleared his throat and sat back in his seat. "I mean, consider this a pro bono thing. I came back here to make sure you two were okay, and keeping her company while you recover is part of that."

He wanted to argue. He _should_ argue. But he was exhausted and still not feeling a hundred percent, and honestly the idea of absolute silence for a few more hours while someone else took care of Mia was positively heavenly. Derek was not about to turn it down. He could argue about paying Stiles for this later. "Thank you," he said, and stood. "Text me if you need anything." 

"Psh, we'll be fine," Stiles said. "Call _me_ if you need anything. I'll give you more crackers and ginger ale before we leave, but there's also some celery in the fridge if you want something more substantial." 

Derek grimaced at the thought. "Celery?" 

"Hey, don't knock it." Stiles jabbed a fork in his direction. "When I'm sick, it's about the only thing I can stomach." 

Derek huffed. "I'll keep that in mind." 

He staggered back to his bedroom, but not before taking one last look at the kitchen, where Stiles was leaning over Mia's picture as she explained it with a mouthful of pancake. It made his heart hurt, a painful ache in his chest that had nothing to do with being sick. 

He was a terrible, terrible person. 

He turned away from the sight and went to hide in his bed until all the aches went away.

***

Stiles spent the rest of the morning with Mia out at the park, playing with her and watching her play with the other kids until she came and complained about being hungry. So they went out for lunch and afterward, Stiles bought her ice cream, partly for a treat and partly because he felt guilty for being so far away when she'd needed him. 

It was midafternoon when he finally took her back to Derek's house, because she was rubbing her eyes and stubbornly insisting she was _not_ tired. 

Yeah, right. 

Derek was awake when he got there, hair still wet from the shower, and he'd changed into another pair of sweats and a T-shirt. It was such a contrast from how Stiles normally saw him: professional dress, confident, and commanding. He looked soft, comfortable, like someone you could snuggle up to and just sleep on forever. 

Stiles really, really wanted to snuggle up to him, to kiss his cheek in greeting, and go make sure he had something to eat and plenty of sleep. But that wasn't his place, and it wasn't their arrangement. 

He tried not to think about how much he _wanted_ it to be. 

He lay Mia on the couch and put on a movie, then grabbed her wolf princess from the bedroom. She was asleep almost as soon as he put it in her arms. 

"Thank you," Derek said quietly. "I'm sorry I couldn't—"

Stiles waved the apology away. "Dude, absolutely nothing to apologize for. You got sick. It happens. Just take care of yourself, okay?" 

Derek smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Okay. How long are you in town?" 

Stiles mentally calculated. "I'll probably be around until about four or so tomorrow. Why?" 

"Just," Derek shrugged, "if you wanted to come by. I'm not sure I'll be a hundred percent, so if you could just watch Mia for a bit—" 

Stiles's heart fell. "Sure!" He said, with much more enthusiasm than he felt. "I'd be happy to. Just let me know when. How are you feeling?" 

"Better," Derek said, "but exhausted. I think I'm going to join her on the couch." 

"Sounds like a good plan," Stiles said, backing toward the doorway. "I'll get out of your hair, then. Text me and let me know when you want me to take her."

"Thank you," Derek said again, sitting down on the couch next to Mia. 

"No problem," Stiles said, and hurried out the door.

***

He got back to his dad's house, feeling like he probably needed to take a nap as well. 

Of course, that hope got shot all to hell when he walked inside and Dad called from the living room, "Stiles? That you?" 

Stiles winced and cursed inwardly. "Uh, yeah, Dad. I'm kind of wiped, I'm just going to—" 

Dad appeared in the living room door, arms crossed over his chest. "You got a moment?" 

Oh no. He wasn't having this conversation, not now. Stiles yawned massively and stretched. "I would, but I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, and then I spent most of today at the park with Mia, and—" 

Dad just stepped to the side and nodded at the living room. 

Stiles wasn't going to win this one. He sighed. "Or I could go into the living room to have what is sure to be a productive and not at all awkward conversation." 

Dad clapped him on the shoulder when he walked by. "Way to look on the bright side, son." 

Stiles sat on the couch, shoving his hands under his thighs so he wouldn't start fidgeting. He lasted two seconds before he started bouncing his leg. 

Dad paced the room, paused once in front of Stiles and opened his mouth, and then closed it again and sat in his armchair. 

Stiles was going to go out of his mind from the suspense. "Oh my God, Dad, would you—" 

Dad leaned forward. "Are you dating Derek Hale, son?" 

Stiles clapped his mouth shut. _Was_ he dating Derek? Did fuckbuddies practicing BDSM count as dating? 

Dad sighed. "The fact that it's taking you this long to answer does not inspire confidence." 

Stiles flailed. "It's complicated!" 

Dad's eyes narrowed. "Let me uncomplicate it for you, then. Are you having any kind of non-platonic relationship with the man you've been babysitting for since you were _sixteen_?"

Holy shit, his dad looked ready to get in the car and go pistol-whip somebody. Probably Derek. Fuck. "No!" Stiles burst out. "I mean, _yes_ , but it's only been a few months! Nothing happened when I was underage, okay? _Nothing._ Nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch."

"Nothing?" Dad repeated, still glaring. 

"Nothing." 

"Because if we need to have the conversation about consent again—" 

Stiles raked his hands through his hair. "Oh my _God_ , Dad, no. No, we don't. Because nothing happened when I was too young to legally consent." 

Dad continued glaring for another moment, and then relaxed minutely and sat back in his chair. "Okay." 

"Okay?" Stiles said. 

Dad nodded. "Okay. I'm not going to pretend to be _happy_ about it, but you were of age when it started, which removes at least one of my objections." 

Stiles squawked. "You have _more_?" 

Dad waved a hand at the door. "He's eleven years older than you are! He has a kid!"

"So?" 

It wasn't Stiles's best argument; he could admit that. From the look on his face, his dad felt the same way. "You two have such vastly different life experiences right now. Making a relationship work is going to be very, _very_ difficult." 

"It's not like that!" Stiles protested. "It's just, you know, uh..." 

It occurred to Stiles right then that admitting he was in a purely fuckbuddies relationship with a man eleven years older than him was not the smartest thing he could do.

"Not serious?" he finished weakly. 

Dad stared at him for a moment and then wiped his hand over his face. "Aw, crap." 

"What?" Stiles asked. "Look, can we just pretend this conversation didn't happen? I don't particularly want to discuss my private life with you and _you_ don't particularly want to discuss it with me so let's just—" 

Dad gave him a glare that had any other protest dying in Stiles's throat. He leaned forward again. "Stiles, you drove two hours at eleven-thirty at _night_ to make sure he was okay, you spent most of today with his daughter, and you expect me to believe it's nothing serious?" 

"It's not!" Stiles argued. "Dad, I'm an adult, okay? And that means I can handle having a relationship that's just, you know, physical." 

Dad raised his eyes to the ceiling. "For God's sake, Stiles, being an adult doesn't just mean you can handle a physical relationship. It means you know how to _communicate_ in a relationship. It means you recognize when something is becoming _more_ than physical to you and you are honest with your partner about it. You want to be an adult? These are the conversations you have to have."

"We don't—I don't—it's not _more_ than that." 

The argument sounded weak to Stiles's own ears. And by the look on his dad's face, he didn't believe a word of it. "Stiles," Dad said, "I saw the look on your face when you walked in the door last night. I heard your voice when you asked how he was. You know your feelings better than I do, but I can tell you from personal experience, lying to yourself _and_ to him about them is a fast way to getting hurt even worse." 

"But he doesn't want...I mean, this was just supposed to be...fun." Stiles's throat constricted on the word. It was supposed to be fun and he'd gone and ruined it with _feelings_. 

"Is it going to be fun if, every time you're together, you want something more?" Dad asked gently. 

Stiles sank back into his seat, trying to hide himself. Dad had a point. He hated it when his dad had a point. 

"I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but has he ever _said_ he doesn't want anything more?" Dad said. "You said it's been a few months. It's possible he feels the same way." 

Stiles scoffed. "Yeah, right, Dad, have you met me? Like he'd want a serious relationship with a spastic college kid."

Dad narrowed his eyes. "Then he doesn't deserve you, you'll nurse your broken heart for a while, and I go back to my plan to build a turret to keep you safe."

Stiles flailed. "Dad!"

"What? It worked for Rapunzel." 

"Okay, one, no it didn't, and two, do I look like a fairy tale princess to you?"

"You look like my only son." Dad rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I'm not... _thrilled_ with this, to say the least, but you are legally an adult now, despite all my wishes to the contrary. And I just...I want you to be happy, okay? I want to see you find someone who makes you feel the way your mom made me feel. The way Melissa makes me feel now. And if you've found that, you should go for it." 

Stiles blinked at him. "Did you...just give me permission to date Derek?" 

Dad winced and stood. "You're almost twenty years old. You don't need my permission for anything, anymore. Just consider it some fatherly advice."

Stiles stared, still not quite comprehending what was going on. "This conversation didn't really go the way I thought it would." 

Dad rubbed the back of his neck. "Me neither, a fact for which I am extremely grateful. Come on, let's go get a drink."

Stiles jumped to his feet. "Beer?" he said hopefully. 

Dad squeezed his shoulder. "You've got more than a year before I have to say yes to that. Don't push your luck."

Stiles made a show of complaining, but really, he was just kind of overwhelmed. He'd expected his dad to be furious; he hadn't expected him to be _supportive_. 

"I love you, Dad," Stiles said.

Dad gave him a one-armed hug. "Love you too, kid."

***

"Daddy, what are you doing?" 

Derek looked up from where he'd wandered into the kitchen for the fourth time. "What, pumpkin?" 

"What are you doing?" Mia repeated. "You're just walking up and down the hall. Are you having senior moments like Gammy does?"

Derek pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. "I am not having a senior moment, but I cannot wait to tell your grandmother you said that."

Mia shrugged and went back to the tea party she had set up on the coffee table. "That's what Grandpa calls them." 

Derek was going to have blackmail on his father for at least the next three months. "This just keeps getting better." 

"When is Stiles coming over? Is he going to play with me?" 

Derek stopped where he was, swallowed a few times, and hoped Mia didn't notice. "He'll be over soon. He and I need to talk for a little bit first, and then he can play with you, okay?" 

_If he still wants to,_ Derek mentally added. He didn't think Stiles would punish his daughter for Derek's feelings, but at the same time, he didn't want to trap Stiles into sticking around if he would rather just get away for a few days.

He was going to do it quickly. Like ripping off a bandage. Explain his feelings, apologize for taking so long to get around to it, and then ask if Stiles would continue to watch Mia as a babysitter. Hopefully the answer to the last question would still be yes. 

The doorbell rang. Derek nearly jumped out of his skin. 

Before he could make a move, Mia was on her feet and running for the front door. She threw it open. "Hi, Stiles!" 

"Hi, Mia," Stiles said with a warm smile, and he tugged her dark ponytail. "What are you doing?" 

"I'm having a ninja princess tea party," she said. "Daddy says he needs to talk to you first, but do you want to play with me after?" 

"I, uh, yeah." Uncertainty flickered over Stiles's face. "If it's okay with your dad."

God. They hadn't even talked yet and already Derek was fucking things up. "It's fine with me." He gestured to his study. "If you'll come in here, so we can talk?" 

He'd thought long and hard about where to have this conversation, and finally settled on the study because it would afford them more privacy than the kitchen but was slightly less intimate than the bedroom. He didn't want Stiles to feel pressured into anything. 

He closed the door as soon as Stiles was inside and made an aborted motion at the two chairs in front of his desk. The last thing he wanted was anything between them, literally or figuratively, that would make this conversation harder than it was going to be. 

Stiles didn't immediately sit. He stood in front of one of the chairs, fidgeting with the cuffs of his hoodie. "So, uh, how are you feeling? Better?" 

Derek nodded. "Yeah, much better. I appreciate you taking Mia yesterday."

Stiles waved the comment away. "Don't worry about it, it's—" 

"I mean it," Derek said, because he wanted Stiles to know how grateful he was to have someone who loved Mia almost as much as he did. "I can't tell you how much easier it was to rest when I knew she was with you. It's..." He shook his head, at a loss for words. "It's not nothing, to me."

Stiles tilted his head at him, like he was really considering Derek's words. "You're welcome," he finally said. "I love her, too, you know that?" 

"Yeah, I do." God, he really hoped this wouldn't end poorly for Mia. His own heart, he could deal with. Hers, well, Derek was still considering wrapping her in bubble wrap when she got old enough to be attracted to people. "She loves you, too." 

Stiles shoved his hands in his back pockets and rocked back on his heels. An awkward silence stretched between them. 

God, Derek was so bad at this. 

He cleared his throat and sat down in a chair. "So."

Stiles dropped into the chair he'd been hovering in front of. "So. What brings us here today? More negotiations?" He wiggled his eyebrows. 

Derek wished. He clenched his fists and concentrated, tried to think of something other than how easy it would be to shift the focus of this conversation. "I've needed to talk to you a while now," he admitted. 

"Oh?" Stiles said. His fists were tight on the cuffs of his sweatshirt, but other than that, he didn't seem at all tense. 

All of Derek's well-organized thoughts were scattering to the wind now that he was actually having this conversation. Kink negotiation was easy, but this? This felt like uncharted waters. 

"I know that I talked a lot about the importance of communication early on, and I haven't...I feel like I haven't been as honest with you as I should have been," he finally said. There. That sounded normal. 

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked. His voice sounded small and wary.

"I mean I should've spoken with you as soon as feelings got involved." 

"Feelings?" Stiles repeated, his amber eyes wide. 

Derek nodded, and then made himself say aloud, "Yes. I realize that isn't what you signed up for, and it's been...selfish of me to keep quiet about it for so long. And I'm sorry for that." He wiped his hand over his face. "Fuck, I should have talked to you sooner." 

Stiles gaped at him. Derek couldn't begin to read his face. He went back to staring at his hands, linked between his knees. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I would really appreciate it if you could keep sitting for Mia, though I know that may not be fair of me to ask. She adores you, and I promise, you wouldn't have to see me for any longer than necessary." 

"Whoa!" Stiles cut in. "Whoa, whoa, wait, hold up. Whose feelings are you talking about here?" 

Derek looked up from his hands. "Mine." 

"Yours." Stiles was still gaping at him. "You have feelings for me." 

"Yes," Derek said. 

"What kind of feelings?" Stiles asked. "Like, happy romantic feelings? Is that what you're talking about?" 

Derek glared. "Don't rub it in my face." 

Stiles flailed. "I'm not trying to rub it in your face! I'm trying to make sure I understand, because no offense, that was kind of vague and really confusing and—" 

"Yes, I have feelings for you," Derek ground out. "Yes, they're romantic. And—" 

Stiles jumped up from his chair, strode across the room, and kissed him. 

Derek froze. Of all the reactions, he hadn't quite expected this one. 

"You _asshole_ ," Stiles grumbled. "I thought you were breaking up with me." 

Now Derek was _really_ confused. "But...I thought—" 

"I have feelings for you, too," Stiles said. "Of the decidedly romantic variety, or did you think I would drive two hours in the middle of the night for just anyone?" 

Derek stared up at him, dumbfounded. "What?" 

Stiles straddled him, sliding his knees on either side of Derek's thighs, leaning back down so their faces were only inches apart. "I. Have. Feelings. For. You," he said again, dipping close enough that their noses brushed. "Too." 

Derek had to have misheard. He had to—

Stiles kissed him again, more gently this time, hesitant, almost like a question. 

And no, Derek didn't want him to question this, didn't want him to ever doubt his feelings. He gripped Stiles's hips, holding him in place, and kissed him back.  
_  
I love you, too_ , he thought. _I want this, I want you, I want_ —

But it wasn't going to be that easy. Derek knew it couldn't be. No matter how he felt about Stiles, Stiles was still in college. He had his entire life ahead of him, and why would he choose to settle down now? He could go anywhere, do anything he wanted. Derek had Mia, had a job and a life in Beacon Hills that he had no intention of giving up. That he _couldn't_ give up. 

"God," Stiles whispered against his lips. "I thought for sure you didn't feel the same way, I thought I was fucking everything up by falling for you—" 

"Stiles," Derek said. 

Stiles sat back, searching Derek's face with curious amber eyes. "What is it?" 

"We can't—" 

The hopeful look in Stiles's eyes faded. "We can't what?"

Derek took a deep breath. "You're nineteen—" 

Stiles scrambled out of his lap like he'd been burned. "So, what? I'm old enough to fuck but I'm not old enough to date?" 

"No, that's not—" Derek stood up and dragged his hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts before he made this worse. "With sex, it can be just us. With dating..." He spread his arms helplessly. "I'm a package deal. It's not just me, it's Mia, too." 

Stiles drew back like Derek had slapped him. "You think I don't know that?" 

He was explaining this _terribly_. Derek sighed. "I know you do. But you still have two years of college to go, and then the whole world is open for you. Anything you want to do, anywhere you want to go. I'm...PTA meetings and carpools and T-ball games, and I'm _here_. And that's not going to change any time soon. You wouldn't just be dating me, you'd be a parent to a six-year-old girl. Is that really what you want, right now, at this point in your life? Do you really want to graduate only to come right back to Beacon Hills?"

" _Yes._ "

"Stiles—"

"Oh my God, don't 'Stiles' me like I'm five," Stiles snapped. "That decision has absolutely nothing to do with you. There's a reason I went to a college within driving distance, even though I had scholarships to schools all over the country. My dad's here, and I'm not leaving him. It was just me and him for so long, I can't—" He cut himself off and shook his head. "I don't want to be halfway across the damn country. I want to be close enough to see him every week and if something happens, I can be there."

Derek felt foolish and small. He'd known Stiles had been accepted to both NYU and UCLA, but had never really asked why he'd chosen to go to Berkeley instead. It had been arrogant to assume he was the only factor in Stiles's decisions. 

"I'm sorry," Derek said. "I didn't mean..." He cleared his throat. "I never had this conversation with Mia's mom." 

Stiles blinked at him. "What?" 

"We didn't...we never talked about the future." It was so stupid, in hindsight, that they'd been able to talk openly about sex and everything they wanted to try, but never about what they wanted to be. "We never talked about it, never thought about it, never..." Derek waved his hand, trying to encompass all the things they _hadn't_ said. "Which turned out to be a terrible decision, because she got pregnant and suddenly we had to have all of that figured out. We tried, for a while to make it work, but...she'd never wanted a serious relationship or a family and it was just making us both miserable." 

Stiles stood there, some of the anger bleeding out of his eyes, like he was hearing the things Derek hadn't said yet. 

"We didn't have it figured out, and we were both older than you are," Derek said quietly. "And I can't...bring someone into Mia's life, into our lives, without knowing they're pretty sure they want a family, at the very least."

Stiles shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded jerkily. "I don't know if I can give you the answer you want. Honestly, I haven't even thought about whether I want kids or a family or anything. But spending so much time with you and Mia...it makes me think I kind of do. You know? Like, I want to take her to the mall to see Santa and show her all my favorite Disney movies and I want to _be here_ if something happens to one of you." Stiles's throat bobbed, and he finally looked away. "I don't know if that's enough."

Derek didn't, either. He didn't know if "maybe" was enough for a serious romantic relationship. It probably wasn't. If he were a better man, he would tell Stiles no, tell him to go back to college and focus on his school and forget about tying himself to a single dad and a six-year-old girl when he had so many other, better opportunities. 

However, as Derek had learned repeatedly over the last several months, he was never a good man where Stiles was concerned. He wanted this, wanted Stiles in his life and in his bed and in Mia's life. He wanted pancakes in the mornings and TV late at night and Stiles to be next to him at Mia's T-ball games and at family dinners. 

Stiles had dropped everything and driven two hours at _midnight_ when Mia had called him, to make sure she and Derek were okay. He couldn't think of another person who would have done that for them, outside of his family. And maybe Stiles didn't know everything he wanted, but even knowing that he wanted to be in Beacon Hills was lightyears ahead of where Derek had been his sophomore year in college.

He wanted to find a way to make this work.

"Maybe we should meet somewhere neutral and talk about this more in-depth," Derek said.

Stiles whipped his head up so fast it was a wonder he didn't give himself whiplash. "What? Now?"

Derek shook his head. "No. I know you've got to head back to school soon and this is a pretty in-depth conversation. But we sat down and talked about what we wanted from a sexual relationship. Why wouldn't we do the same for a romantic one?"

Stiles's amber eyes lit up. "So instead of a kink negotiation, it's a date negotiation?"

Derek laughed, and it felt lighter than it had in months. "Something like that, yeah." 

Stiles bit his lip and tugged on the cuffs of his hoodie. "So...just to be clear. You actually want to try this?" 

"I...yes," Derek admitted. "Yes, I do."

Someone pounded on the study door, and Derek nearly jumped out of his skin. 

"Daddy!" Mia yelled. "Are you done talking yet? Can Stiles come play?" 

He looked over to Stiles, whose lips twitched, and that was all it took for Derek to double over laughing. He didn't know _why_ , it was so ridiculous, but he couldn't stop. 

Stiles grinned and rocked back on his heels. "I guess that means I can go play tea party with Mia until I need to go?" 

Derek managed to collect himself long enough to nod and gesture to the door. "Go on. We'll talk...Friday night? Saturday?" 

Stiles wrinkled his nose. "I hope we'll talk _before_ that."

Derek sighed. "You know what I meant." 

"Yeah, Friday or Saturday works. Same coffee shop as last time?" Stiles reached out and trailed his fingers along the back of Derek's hand. "Say, seven?" 

Derek caught his hand and pulled him in for a quick, chaste kiss, brimming with hope. "It's a date."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](https://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mad_madam_m)!


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